


Ed Nygma's Midnight Escapade

by Fox_In_A_Box



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Humor, M/M, Season/Series 03, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 03:13:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17841353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fox_In_A_Box/pseuds/Fox_In_A_Box
Summary: Van Dahl Mansion is a damned maze.[...] The thought of summoning someone for help lingers for a moment at the back of his mind, but is soon dismissed. Unacceptable, much like the idea of giving up and returning back to bed. It's not even a matter of primary needs anymore - no, it's a matter of pride.Ed Nygma won't be defeated by a XIX century mansion, no sir!





	Ed Nygma's Midnight Escapade

**Author's Note:**

> And so I binge-watched three seasons of Gotham in less than a month. Welp. Wrote this thing mostly because I needed some fluff to make up for the emotional turmoil season 3 has cast me into - meant in a good, heart-wrenching way, of course. And god knows what season 4 holds!

Van Dahl Mansion is a damned maze.

 

Nevermind the fact that he's half-asleep, glasses-less and has never had a strong sense of direction to begin with. What he does have is a pretty good sense of time and he doesn't need a watch to know he has spent the last forty-five minutes wandering around a series of dimly-lit hallways in search of a glass of water. And the kitchen is still nowhere to be seen.

 

After walking by a seemingly infinite number of closed doors, mounting two stairways and going down another two, it's with immense disbelief and just a bit of annoyance that he realises he's back at the starting point: the south wing, right in front of the guest room.

 

The thought of summoning someone for help lingers for a moment at the back of his mind, but is soon dismissed. Unacceptable, much like the idea of giving up and returning back to bed. It's not even a matter of primary needs anymore - no, it's a matter of _pride_.

 

Ed Nygma won't be defeated by a XIX century mansion, no sir!

 

"I can be soft enough to soothe the skin, light enough to touch the sky and hard enough to break rocks. What am I?" He mutters to himself, as he makes his way down yet another corridor under the eyes of generations of Van Dahls looking down at him, judging him from their golden frames.

 

He never thought he'd miss his small apartment in downtown Gotham, yet there he is, silently cursing the entire Van Dahl dynasty, the dreadful aesthetic tastes of a dead architect and, last but not least, his own ill-fated decision of having not one, but two whole portions of gulash for dinner.

 

He turns a corner, then another, until a distant sound forces him to come to a halt. The noise of metal scraping against something, he decides, accompanied by what sounds like someone humming a little tune under his breath. His hesitation, however, is short lived and he finds himself resuming his exploration soon enough. The house is old and haunted by countless ghosts - at least according to its previous owner. Ed finds it rather hard to believe, especially when there's a perfectly logical explanation, supported by solid scientific basis, for the phenomenon.

 

"Hallucinations," he sighs. "Common symptom of dehydration."

 

Still, when he crosses the threshold of one of the few rooms still open at that hour, he's compelled to squint to convince himself that what he's looking at isn't just the product of his sleepy, water-deprived brain. Because standing by the table in the dining room that leads into the kitchen (finally!) is not a vengeful spirit ready to lash out at whoever dares violate the sanctuary of its home, but the mayor of Gotham himself, Oswald Cobblepot, night robe and all. In the split second it takes Oswald to recognise his chief of staff, Ed can clearly see the instinct of reaching for the sharpest kitchen knife at hand being overridden by the one of trying - and failing - to hide what looks like the last slice of sachertorte from that evening's dessert. Or what's left of it, anyway.

 

Oswald clears his throat, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other with some difficulty dictated by his condition. "Ed? Can I help you?"

 

"Just looking for a glass of water."

 

The two men stare at each other from opposing sides of the room, Ed wondering if he should just leave and let him enjoy his midnight snack in peace and Oswald probably weighing the pros and cons of murdering his employee right there and then to avoid his little secret becoming public knowledge. Which may seem an overstatement, but Edward knows who he's dealing with and, incidentally, he also knows that the Penguin has killed for much less, in the past.

 

Once again, it's Oswald who speaks up first, breaking the silence. "I trust all of this will remain confidential."

 

He utters the words 'all of this' as if he were talking about a gruesome crime rather than a slice of chocolate cake filled with delicious apricot jam.

 

Ed allows himself a smile. "Of course. I'm bound by professional secrecy, remember?"

 

There's no need for the entire city to know the mayor gets up in the middle of the night to get his hands on the last piece of cake. The fact that he seems to worry more about hiding an insignificant little vice like a sweet-tooth, rather than concerning himself with his ties to the criminal underworld, speaks volumes about the kind of person he really is beneath the smiles and the politeness of his manners. Some people may find it disturbing, disgusting even; to Edward it's simply _fascinating_.

 

Reassured by his declaration of loyalty, Oswald is free to dispose of the evidence of his little misdeed, getting rid of the crumbs one by one before returning the now-clean dish to its rightful place in the cupboard. In the meantime, Ed gets the chance to fetch himself a much-needed glass of water, letting out a relieved sigh when his thirst is quenched at last.

 

In silent agreement the mayor and his chief of staff finally decide to leave the dining room, walking side by side through the dark halls, so close that their shoulders brush against one another.

 

Edward doesn't struggle to adjust his stride. He's so used to walking beside him, by now, that slowing down his pace to avoid leaving him behind comes almost natural. It's the least he can do, really. After everything Oswald has done for him, he feels like he could shed blood, sweat and tears to help him elevate himself to king not only of Gotham City but of the entire world and it still wouldn't be enough to repay him for his kindness.

 

"I can walk you to your room, if you want," he offers, forgetting for a moment that if he's there it's also thanks to his disastrous sense of direction - or lack thereof.

 

Luckily, Oswald demonstrates to be more perceptive than he had thought him to be. That, or he demonstrates to know Edward even better than he knows himself. "Maybe I should walk _you_ to your room?"

 

Ed is unable to suppress an embarrassed chuckle. "Wonderful idea."

 

Oswald's lips taste of chocolate when he kisses him goodnight on the door of his room and Edward starts to think that maybe, just maybe, getting lost in the endless hallways of Van Dahl Mansion was really worth it, after all.

 


End file.
